


Doubt

by nomoretears24



Category: Succession (TV 2018)
Genre: Angst, Borderline Personality Disorder, F/M, Feelings and shit, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-27
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-18 16:09:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29736435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nomoretears24/pseuds/nomoretears24
Summary: Gerri has second thoughts about the arrangement she has with Roman, six months after the yacht.
Relationships: Gerri Kellman/Roman "Romulus" Roy
Comments: 10
Kudos: 40





	1. Gerri

She can feel herself being swept away with the passion. The feeling of his lips delicately caressing her neck, stealing the breath from her lungs as she tries to imprint every second of it into her memory. His tender grazing of her side, the tight clasping of her hip as he pushes repeatedly into her. She knows this has heightened in intensity, this isn’t plainly chasing a release anymore; it was something more and yet she had to stop it from continuing.

It had all started on the yacht. Well, it had started long before that, but the yacht had brought much of it out into the open. In the chaotic setting where every individual on board was scrambling to save their own asses, whilst betraying their family and colleagues, she and Roman had been wrapped up in an entanglement of their own.

She had stayed up into the early hours trying to create and implement a tactical strategy of how to keep herself out of the hot seat. Roman met with her just before the breakfast of doom to collude. Rockstar and the Molewoman trying to devise how to keep their team up prosperous. She had tried to set out who were the best victims to turn this around on in the chance they needed a scapegoat. She had known this was a game; a show trial. Logan had provided a wealth of them over the years, to avoid being labelled the ruthless, reprobate that they knew him to be. All of their hands had to be bathed in blood, and hers were no different. She had avoided the guillotine for too many years now, though this was the closest she had ever felt she had ever come to being sacrificed in this tactical game of chess; she as the potential bishop, to be taken in a ploy to protect the queen. So, this time, her hands had to be seeped in blood, her whole carcass submerged in it in order to survive.

This time was also distinctive considering she had Roman as her ally. She had had so many of them over the years: Baird, Frank, Karolina, Cyd, even Karl at one point. The ally changed according to the plight, according to the crime. Roman, however, was a different kind of collaborator. A family member with perhaps more sway than any of the other allies before him. The boy prince with a plethora of sass, yet seemingly an abundance of vulnerability. A gentle being at times with so much to prove, handing her his loyalty on a platter in order to achieve some recognition from his father, from his family, from his colleagues, from the whole world. She had given him her loyalty in return; a strategic move in part, an emotional one in another.

There was no denying he had influence as the youngest son of Logan Roy, as a potential successor of the empire. It would be idiotic not to have taken advantage of this rebellious nomad, though she can’t deny there was an element of compassion in her choice. His misguided choices had softened her, his dismal attempts of making calculated manoeuvres to impress his father had forced her to take him under her wing and guide him. She could see the potential he had; his drive was undeniable, his charm pouring from him - something you simply couldn’t teach. He just needed someone with a little patience, someone to show him the pathway to take, someone to have a little faith; and she had been that someone.

However, she hadn’t expected the continued sparks, currents, and high voltage between them to increase. She hadn’t expected the flirtatious quips to develop into kinky sadomasochistic phone sex, and ultimately, she hadn’t expected to feel the thrill from it between her own legs.

It had just been the blowing off of steam initially; a long day and a lack of patience on her part. Their flirtatious goading had been advancing into the inappropriate with each day that passed and then before she knew it he was gasping into the phone as she let her tongue continue to splurge all the insults she had wished she was able to openly say to every fucking one of his clan throughout the years. Everything she wished to say to every fucker who had ever crossed her and exhausted her with their incompetence for over the last thirty years, he had been on the receiving end of that evening.

Then there had been Tern Haven, a messy situation with his humiliation at the forefront as Tabitha had publicly shamed him to their rivals, before he had been shattered with the revelation of Logan’s named successor; though even then when regarding Logan’s reaction, Gerri hadn’t been so sure that Siobhan hadn’t spoiled her chances by playing her hand too soon. She had noted Logan’s reserved feedback, had realised immediately that this announcement had not been planned. Shiv had revealed her weaknesses to a number of people that evening, particularly Logan, potentially confessing that she didn’t have the main ingredients of what it took to be the CEO: patience, trustworthiness, delicacy, nor tact. Shiv hadn’t allowed Logan to broadcast his faith in her in his own time. She hadn’t allowed Logan to make a measured, calculated declaration when he saw fit. She had instead caught him off guard and put him on the back foot; something Gerri knew Logan would never forgive.

Gerri had been surprised when Roman had shown up at her door after dinner in Tern Haven, begging for alcohol and assurance. She supposed in that moment that she was his mentor now; the Socrates to his Plato. She was expected to bolster him when he down, strengthen him when he was weak; she just didn’t realise that was calling him a rotten little nothing through her bathroom door until he covered her robe in semen. He had needed it though; that she had known. She had played the role in that moment as a form of mercy - to give him something positive, though she didn’t know to this day how calling him a sick fucking animal was the way to achieve that.

It was more than that though. More than the sexual aspect. That she knew. Their affiliation had matured so much further between Tern Haven and the yacht. There had been the evolution of a close bond, alongside the charge between them. They had become a partnership after Argestes; conspiring in all matters, leading them to this steadfast treaty by the time they had boarded the yacht.

The attraction had been silently mounting also. The longing stares, the quirked eyebrows, the smirks that she was sure were mirrored in her own expression. They had been on the cusp of addressing whatever this was – his awkward marriage proposal in Dundee had made that a certainty. Then he had gone to Turkey on his pilgrimage for the white knight on her recommendation to Logan. His tactile opportunity to prove himself, which he had, though the surprise had been the side of anxiety she had been faced with when she had found out he had been taken hostage.

That was the first discounted alarm bell in her mind. The panic she had felt when she had been faced with the prospect of Roman Roy facing a tragic demise. She hadn’t allowed herself to think it through as to why her heart had been in her mouth for those long hours. She had refused to query the loud gasp that had left her lips and the relief had flooded her when his safety was confirmed; the alleviation so heavy that she had to excuse herself from the room to hide out in the bathroom just to take a moment to process the reality that he was intact. Most of all, she had outright blocked the brief realisation of why she hadn’t even considered both Laird and Karl in the same situation; the truth that she was not merely worried for another colleague was too unfathomable.

However, when he had entered the yacht, she had felt lighter just to have an eye on his alive form; cracking a few jokes with the others, noting his sober attitude.

Each meeting between only them on the yacht though had been more intense than the previous one.

His first meeting with her light, even with an impending doom encasing them as he had teased Frank and Karl with the prospect of their demise. A small generosity afforded by him to help abate her admitted anxiety.

The second had been a little more charged as she had explained her strategy along with its reasoning whilst he had simply nodded along with her intention to engage in her usual method of operation in these situations.

“You sit quietly and say nothing. Only use the leverage and arguments when you’re called upon or to defend,” she had told him.

“Like wallpaper?” He had asked with a smirk.

“Like wallpaper,” she had whispered in return.

She had had her confident mirage on display for him, no intention on revealing the apprehension within her if this all went to shit. If she faltered, he would too, and neither of them could afford that. But when she had removed her phone from its charger, almost marching towards the door in determination to get this over with, he had surprised her once more. He had simply stopped her silently, with one hand on the door, one raised in the air, holding her captive in the room as she had raised an eyebrow. Her stomach had fluttered when he had reached for her hand, taking it in hers firmly, giving it a tight squeeze as he stared directly into her eyes, causing her to drop her courageous masquerade only for a moment.

She was unsure what he was trying to communicate with his eyes.

It’s going to be okay?

I’ll protect you?

It won’t be you?

I care for you?

She had never found out, even to this day, but it had offered her a semblance of comfort at the time.

Their third and final meeting had been what had caused this whole debacle. Her emotions heightened with the betrayal she had experienced around the breakfast table. The probability that she could actually be the one who was chosen as the scapegoat for this fucking cruises scandal was devastating. The reality that this could be her last day of freedom and everything that came along side that was sinking in.

She would be ruined. Her reputation in Waystar, in her field, in her family, with her friends. It would all be over just like that after decades of bobbing and weaving the final knockout blow. And for what?

When he had entered her room, she had been wild; intensely pacing, running a hole in the carpeting, fuelled with anger, anxiety, and downright fear. However, all of this was mixed with her arousal when she had seen him, when she had stopped to remember his display of loyalty to her. His defence of her staunch, quick thinking, and downright logical. It was unlike her to throw any caution to the wind. Her whole life had been calculated and thought through, not one decision ever made on a whim, and yet when she plunged on Roman it had been the most spontaneous move she had ever made. It had only been a kiss. A passionate one – that was irrefutable.

However, it had sparked the conversation; the one they had been putting off. The admission that there was an attraction there between them. She had thanked him for his defence at the breakfast table, then he had done most of the talking, his deranged garble never ending. He had admitted outright his inability to perform without a bizarre kink, that he felt that had been changing since they had grown closer, though he couldn’t explain why. He had thanked her for her belief in his abilities in work and in him specifically. He had been on the cusp of admitting to more, his discussion of his time as a hostage leading into it. However, she had cut it off with another kiss, one that this time lead them to her bed. An unorthodox exploration into each other physically as she had tried to guide him into it; like everything else, she had mentored him in. She wished she had felt guilt after, though she couldn’t bring herself to. Her mind justified it as the last thing she would been doing for herself before she had potentially been sent to the slammer. The one thing she could give herself for the years of making sacrifices for the sake of Waystar: quality time with her children, a happy marriage, every vacation she hadn’t been able to complete, every friend she had had to cancel on, and hell, even a full eight hours sleep every night. She did something for herself that time and for once she allowed herself to enjoy it.

This is how, she can’t fathom how she was still here engaging in it now.

It had been six months since the yacht and in such a short space of time, everything had happened. She had been made interim CEO, Logan had been put on trial and jailed with Kendall’s trial currently taking place. She had had to turn everything around at the beginning, the shareholders voting in favour of her instead of Sandy and Stewy – a surprise to her, but apparently not to everyone else. However, the biggest shock of all was that everything had continued with Roman. The reasoning from the yacht that it was a final treat to herself was no longer fitting.

This undefined arrangement they had, had continued in the same fashion since the night after the shareholders meeting. He would make his way to her apartment; they would have dinner with the guise of work, and accidentally intentionally up in her bed.

Their trusted professional marriage had continued; their bond in that respect stronger than ever as they had agreed to keep their loyalty impenetrable to those who may seek to advantageously severe it. They had decided to wait for everything to die down before pursuing the idea of him as the Chair of the Board; the whispers of her permanence in the CEO position already growing.

However, his presence in her personal life was becoming increasingly worrisome.

She didn’t know what this was. In her mind she had kept it completely innocent. The convenience of having dinner at her apartment to continue the work; the scratching of an itch when he had brought her to her climax; the fluke of when they would throw the towel in and watch the news, exchanging anecdotes instead of working whilst they ate; the rare occasion he would become restless with work and lie down on her couch, his head on her lap as she threaded her fingers absently through his hair while reading through papers.

She rarely allowed herself the thought that this was perhaps becoming a little too over familiar. Even the notion of it was cause for concern. There was no way this could become permanent. No way in any shape or form they could become serious. Even the concept that they could get caught had been creating a nervousness within her.

Just like now, as her legs are wrapped around him, so many things jumble through her head whenever she even considers the notion of this being permanent.

How people would take it – badly being the answer. How it would completely sabotage her reputation. How no one would ever take her seriously as a CEO with a boy toy in the next office. How the public would pulverise them in the media. How her daughters would react to the news that she had taken up with a member of the very family that had ruined their childhood.

It had already gone too far, and she realised now how attached they were becoming to one another. The signs were so blatant before despite her desire to ignore them.

It had been small things at first.

When he had left a few pieces of clothing at her apartment.

When he had brought over her favourite wine for the third time.

When he had been able to rhyme off her order at the local Italian restaurant they always ordered from.

When he had adorably bent down and kissed her knee after she had battered it off the coffee table.

The seemed that more she had ignored it, the more she had allowed this whole fiasco to play out, the more familiar they had become, the more comfortable she had become with their routine, the more reconciled she had become with having him around.

She doesn’t deny that she finds him attractive, finds the whole thing thrilling. The way he looked at her sometimes, the way he treated her, touched her so delicately made her head spin at times. He was enamoured and she had tried to convince herself that she was merely enamoured with being enamoured by him. She hadn’t allowed herself though to think any deeper than that.

She knew they had a friendly connection or bond. One that one would have with a colleague who had made her laugh and who had a particular charm that would woo most if he so chose to. An association that would be present when there was a vulnerable man who had lost his way and so desperately tried to learn how to be competent. The fire within him was evident; his drive to be better, his willingness to put all his trust into her, his desire to please her. She had been impressed by all of it.

However, this vulnerability went so far beyond what his deplorable family had created. He was loving, caring, and protective. That much she had seen on the yacht. That much she had continued to see since.

The glimmer in his eye when she had praised a job well done.

The excitement and skip in his step when she would agree to a “work dinner” in her apartment.

His instant need to relieve her pain with a massage when her aching back had been playing up.

His obsession with satisfying her with his head between her thighs, the lazy grin across his lips whenever he succeeded in bringing her pleasure before he had any relief of his own.

All of them had been warning shots that she was now freely addressing.

All of them had led to this sinking in her stomach she felt right now as she lay underneath him, full of his seed, her fingers absently stroking through his hair as a frown splayed her forehead.

Thinking of it now, she could feel herself falling too. She had seen it in his behaviour on too many occasions, batting it away quickly. However, she never expected herself to follow the same path. She thought she was stronger and more independent than that. It was something she had been fighting, avoiding thinking about at all. But now she was here, it was so obvious.

“Let me up,” she says abruptly, tapping his shoulder and moving underneath him as he hums sleepily.

“Let me up,” she orders more firmly this time, pushing him away as he groans.

She slips into the bathroom to clean up, wrapping her silk robe around her firmly, catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror before she has it closed.

She sighs and closes her before her of what she had just entangled herself in again.

She opens her eyes again to look at her reflection, sees the sadness there, the hurt clear as day.

She thinks of the stutter in his speech only half an hour ago. He had told her that he had something to tell her, had nervously paced as he waffled his words about how nervous he was to say it. She had felt the alarm rise in her then, grabbed his arm tightly when he had kneeled down in front of her as she sat on the couch. His desperate eyes, looking up to her pleadingly to take what he was about to admit to her positively.

She couldn’t make that promise; had instead quickly cut him off with a bruising kiss, pouncing on him as a form of distraction. A tactic she had never used on any man, but a tactic that had worked this time. Her tongue had warred with his to prevent the confession she knew was about to leave his lips.

It was the confirmation that he had fallen hard, the assertion that this had gone too far. It catalysed her need to admit what was going on here and how it had to end here before he was further wounded. Because they couldn’t do this. They couldn’t make this real. There was just no way in current reality that could happen. So, she had taken him to bed, as a final goodbye. She had allowed him to take her as she desperately held onto him and took every ounce he was willing to offer. She was now wondering if that was the absolute wrong decision as she feels her body sag, leaning against the bathroom counter.

She goes back into the bedroom, her robe wrapped firmly around her, her expression impassive, her body detached from her mind as she watches him burrowed into her pillow with a satisfied grin. She can feel her eyes faltering, having to work extra hard to keep the strain in them as she folds her arms and takes a deep breath.

“We need to talk,” she announces firmly.

“That’s what I was trying to do before you attacked me,” he laughs.

“Roman,” she sighs agitated. “We have to end this.”

She can hear her own breath as she tries to stop her lungs from heaving, her chest aching at saying those little words.

“Wha— what?” He almost whispers.

“We can’t do this anymore,” she confirms, pushing her hair back from her face aloofly.

He sits up suddenly, looking at her confused.

“Do what? Do—,” he cuts himself up by gesturing in the air, waiting for her explanation.

“Do this, Roman. This arrangement,” she verifies, gesturing between the two of them.

He laughs exasperated, looking down at the bedsheets barely covering him, then finally out to the window as he tries to process this. 

“It’s a bad idea,” she continues, as he returns his wide eyes back to her in anger.

“It’s a bad fucking idea?!” He shouts. “Why wasn’t it a bad idea when I was buried in you five minutes ago, but it is now?”

“It wasn’t a good idea then, either,” she says awkwardly, biting the inside of her mouth at the harshness of her own words.

“That’s not how you fucking sounded then! _You_ pounced on _me_!” He roars, pointing to her and then back to himself.

“Come on, Roman,” she sighs, her agitation rising at how hard he’s making this. “We knew this couldn’t last forever. We’ve allowed it to go on too long.”

“How couldn’t it last forever?” He asks frustrated. “ _I_ didn’t know it couldn’t.”

He was reminding her of a petulant child now, someone who just refused to see the logic of this whole thing.

“Be realistic,” she laughs, though it doesn’t reach her eyes.

“Fuck you!” He barks. “I am being realistic! We have a good thing going here, don’t we? We’ve like, had a good time. I know I’ve had a good time. Haven’t you had a good time?” He rabbled, searching her eyes fearfully.

“Yes, Roman,” she whispers. “But that’s all it could be. A good time. And the good time has gone on too long.”

She watches as the realisation hits him that she’s degrading this arrangement to a mere good time, deliberately refuting the ideal that he’s trying to sell that this was something deeper. She examines the amalgamation of hurt, anger, and, dare she say it, heartbreak that dons his innocent face.

“It isn’t just a fucking—,” he shouts before groaning into the room loudly as his head drops into his hands, her folded arms across her stomach becoming firmer to try and remind herself not to falter. “Why?” He demands. “Why can’t it continue?!”

“For starters, it’s a matter of time until someone finds out,” she starts confidently.

“So? Fucking let them find out!”

“Roman,” she groans. “I didn’t work my whole career, finally making it to CEO just to fuck it all now.”

“So, I’m the one who’d fuck it?” He asks in almost a whisper.

“Yeah,” she scoffs. “The CEO fucking the COO. Yeah, I’d say that would fuck it.”

“No, I mean ME!” He shouts. “Me specifically!”

She doesn’t answer, simply looks down at the carpet her bare feet are digging into.

“You’re fucking embarrassed by me, aren’t you?” He shouts into the room as he throws the covers back, angrily looking for his clothing strewn across the floor. “This meant fuck all to you, didn’t it?’

She doesn’t answer his question again. She can’t. She can’t admit to something that wasn’t true, but she couldn’t refute it either.

“It’s just the way it has to be,” she evades uncertainly.

“Just the way things have to be,” he mutters, zipping up his pants. “Fuck you!” he shouts, angrily pulling his shirt on. “Fuck you and your fucking bullshit! You heartless fucking bitch!”

She’s taken aback suddenly; has never seen his temper flare like this, has never been on the receiving end of an erratic Roman Roy.

“I thought this fucking meant something! And all you can fucking think about is being the big bad CEO and all the money your raking in!” He shouts, reaching for his socks as he leaves his shirt unbuttoned. “I was about to fucking—”

He cuts himself off with a huff and a cruel laugh as he sits on the bed and shoves his socks on, whist she simply watches, her arms now protecting her as she presses up against the wall by her bathroom door.

“Doesn’t fucking matter now,” he groans, as he crams his feet in his shoes. “Looks like I got a lucky fucking escape.”

She feels her body slumping, the anguish flooding through her entire body. She was a heartless fucking bitch.

“I thought you understood what this was,” she says gently.

“Oh yeah,” he growls. “Fuck buddies, right? Exactly what I always wanted,” he challenges sarcastically, as he stands up. “Well, thanks for the fucking memories,” he offers, saluting her with an awkward smile, as she watches him silently, only a huge sigh leaving her.

He turns towards the bedroom door, before abruptly turning back around.

“You know what? I didn’t even fucking want this bullshit anyway! Fucking your boss? Having a fucking mommy make you do your fucking homework every night?! Fucking baggage that’s what it is! So, don’t worry lady. We’re nothing but fucking colleagues now and I clock the fuck out when I leave that building,” he fires at her angrily, rooted to the spot.

“Rome,” she says gently, a tone that sends a shudder through him, his eyes closing tightly like she’s just stabbed another knife through his heart. “Don’t be like this. I still want our arrangement in work to be maintained. I still want to be there for you,” she pleads softly.

However, his eyes open, his imploring expression turning sinister.

“Oh, so you still want the Roy on your side? You want to dictate what you take from me and I don’t get a fucking say?”

“It’s not like that,” she says tenderly shakes her head.

“Don’t worry, Ms. Kellman. I’ll make sure to schedule a meeting with your secretary first before I take up any of your precious time,” he proclaims dramatically before storming out of her bedroom.

She hears his footsteps battering through her hard wood floors, his muttering under his breath.

“Roman!” She shouts loudly, however, she hears the door slam firmly, causing her to jump.

She can feel the misery seeping through her, from her stomach, through her chest all the way up her throat as she thumps her head back against the wall.

“Fuck,” she whispers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has been ruminating with me in the past few days.  
> Wanted to try something new though my other series will be continuing  
> Let me know what you think :)


	2. Roman

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please be aware that in this fic Roman has Borderline Personality Disorder and some of his behaviours in that can be potentially triggering for people.  
> I've put some info about Borderline in the notes at the end in the case you're interested in exploring Roman as a character.

To say that he feels like his world had just shattered around him as he storms across the pavement would be an understatement. The noise of cars honking all around him is overbearing; people shouting and laughing as they smoke cigarettes outside bars, queuing up the side of the worn brick walls to get into the shittiest clubs. It’s as if they don’t even realise his whole life had just collapsed into ruins. He finds his eyes straining at the bright flashing neon glow of each bar he passes, the harsh glow from traffic lights screaming at him as he tries to ignore them when he walks blindly out onto the road; almost praying for a car to hit him to end this all.

He doesn’t find himself giving a shit about anything as he shoves anyone in his route out of his way as he thunders north; Hurricane Romulus – ready to collect anyone who would dare cross his pathway to bring them on his journey of destruction. He pays no heed to anyone; only glances over his shoulder momentarily at a guy who furiously shouts abuse at him for almost knocking over his flustered girlfriend. Roman almost considers stopping his strides; considers squaring up to the fake tanned, teeth whitened, poorly dressed pretty boy who looks like he easily lifts 300lbs and could absolutely kick his scrawny little ass. The thought of getting a good thrashing is almost tempting, but it would distract him from his current goal: downing a litre of Grey Goose and forgetting what a worthless piece of shit he is.

He phones his driver, screams at him to meet him at the liquor store he had successfully got his new best friend. He stands on the street corner drowning in the bottle, daring someone to challenge him, praying for a police officer to blunder along so he can start a brawl. However, he’s a quarter bottle down when his car arrives, no commotion to speak of.

He can’t believe she had ended it.

That was the one thing that kept churning around his two brain cells. He had honestly thought that it had been going well; he thought she had been settling into their routine. There was no denying their work relationship was thriving. The loyalty there had been absolute; she had been pushing it more than he that the trust between them had to be infinite and he thought he had achieved that.

But, to him, they were basically a couple on top of that. Well, he thought they did what every couple he had ever seen in movies were. They had dinner together, they chilled out on the couch after a long day, she would laugh at his jokes, they would have snippets of conversation about their pasts, she would let him fuck her brains out.

However, even more than that, she’d been tender at times. Sure, she’d never been verbal about it, about what they were, and what was happening here, but he just thought that was Gerri. She was all fucking logic and legal encyclopaedia’s, not fucking emotions and declarations of affection. Nevertheless there had been a few occasions he thought he’d seen it in her eyes, in her smirk.

It was only stupid little things. Like how when she was lying across the couch reading through reports, she would sometimes just so softly stroke the side of his leg with her foot. He remembered looking up the first time she had done it, had thought it was time for work to be over, moving onto the next part of the evening where he got to rip her blouse off. However, it wasn’t a flirtatious smirk he had met with, she had been conscientiously reading through the document, no suggestion that she even realised she knew what she was even doing. He recalls the elation he had felt surging through him in that moment; like she had just wanted them to be connected in some way, like she just wanted to touch him to remind herself he was there next to him – something he now realises he may have read into. He had let her do it for a further ten minutes, had felt like his leg was burning at her touch until he put his tablet down, had taken her foot and settled it in his lap. He had looked up to her as he had begun kneading her arch; noticed her gentle smile towards him, granting him permission to continue before she had gone back to scrutinising the pages in her hand.

There had been a number of things after that; small clues of how she might have felt, traces of her growing affection – or what he had thought was a growing relationship.

He takes another swig from his bottle as he saunters across the foyer of his apartment building, ignoring the receptionist as he repeatedly hits the button to the elevator, impatiently groaning as it doesn’t come within a few seconds he had wanted it to.

He had been a fucking moron.

When he considers everything that had happened in the past six months, there had been nothing in it. A business relationship with the benefits of fucking. That’s what it came down to.

The anger surges within him again at the thought, at the realisation as he renews his vigour of battering the button repeatedly as the receptionist watched him sceptically.

“What the fuck are you looking at?” He shouts combatively to the young guy who quickly darts his eyes back to his computer, battering the keyboard as if he hadn’t just been caught.

Roman looks up to the number on the display, notes how it’s at least dropped into the single digits. He brings the bottle back up to his lips, takes another swig as the effects of the crisp liquid begins to take its effect, the warmth of the spirit satisfyingly coursing through his whole body, burning his throat with each swallow.

Yeah, he’d been a fucking chump. He’d run after her like a desperate fucking puppy, begging her to give him attention and call him a good boy.

His mistake had been never questioning her motives; had just assumed that she had wanted this, wanted him. He’d never got that clarification of what this was between them; had never wanted to push her into it, holding his own bullshit back. He should have fucking known a heartless cunt like her would only want him to wet her whistle alongside their occupational alliance.

Gerri Kellman was the OG stone cold killer bitch; had probably savagely slayed more soldiers than he even knew, and he shouldn’t have been naïve enough to not know that he was simply her latest kill. She had what she wanted now. She achieved the goal interim CEO and she didn’t need him to get it permanently.

She was a smart motherfucker; he realises with a wry laugh. How could he not have considered that she was drawing up her alliance to him because it had been the most strategically sound. Affiliating herself with the most tragic Roy, manipulating a wayward moron to mould him into doing exactly what she had wanted him to do for her own advantage. She had been in this game her whole life, had been picking up and dropping allies when it had suited her; why did he think he was different? He had watched her first hand offer resolute promises to Frank and Ken alongside her conniving plotting to massacre his father in the vote of no confidence, just to watch her wash her hands of the whole thing when it had gone array; betraying Ken and Frank at the last minute. Frank, especially, a lifelong ally of hers in Shitstar; she had easily double-crossed for her own benefit. Why did he honestly think he was different?

His fury is clear as he thumps his fist of the elevator wall before the doors ding open at his penthouse entrance. He doesn’t know who he’s angrier at, at this rate: her for expertly performing her Lady MacBeth role, or himself for being the bird-brained sucker in all this.

His hands fail to properly work as he tries to balance the bottle in the crux of his elbow whilst he tries to pull his keys out of his coat pocket; his hands unable to find the right key as his hazy mind tries to remember which one it is that will open this fucking door.

However, the door opens on its own accord, his clouded mind trying to figure out what kind of fucking sorcery or mind control he possessed, before he looks up to a brunette girl in her early 30’s leaning against the edge of the door offering a knowing smirk.

Then he remembers, at least he has his May.

“You all right there?” She asks with a laugh before sauntering away from the door.

“Yes,” he hisses childishly, walking in the door and slamming it before shrugging his coat off, struggling to pull the bottle through the arm.

“You stink of booze,” she shouts over her shoulder, moving to his living room as he hangs up his coat on a non-existent coat stand, ignoring as his coat crumbles to the floor.

“Yeah, well,” he groans, following her into the living room. “What I do in my time is none of your fucking business,” he digs back before flopping onto the other side of the L shaped couch she is sitting on.

“Meow,” she laughs, closing over her laptop, looking at him sceptically, her eye mainly noting the bottle he was still clutching. “What’s got into you?”

“Another thing that’s none of your fucking business,” he says, holding up his bottle in cheers to her before taking a swig as she watches with wide eyes. “How’d it go today?”

“Fine,” she sighs. “Did half an hour today. Just building the fitness, you know.”

“No, I don’t know. I pay you to know,” he barbs, closing his eyes.

She doesn’t respond to that, has never seen him like this before, simply pushes her tongue into the inside of her cheek as she considers him.

“Maybe I should stay if you’re going to drink yourself into a stupor,” she challenges with a raised eyebrow.

“Fuck you,” he groans. “Where is she?”

“She’s sleeping in her bed. Went down maybe an hour ago,” she says quietly.

“Then she’ll be fine,” he smiles sarcastically, taking another sip of his drink.

“Fine,” she bites, pushing her laptop into her bag. “Just a reminder, though god knows if you’ll remember at this rate. I won’t be around Saturday and Sunday to look after her.”

“What?” He whines. “Why?”

“Because I have a fucking life outside this job,” she retorts back cheekily.

“I don’t pay you the amount I do to have a life,” he mumbles with his eyes closed.

“Yeah, well, you approved me having a life this Saturday and Sunday, a month ago.”

“Yeah, well I was a different person back then. Just cancel it.”

“My boyfriend’s taking me out of town so no can do,” she shrugs, her eyes straining as she considers him. “Are you okay?” She asks gently. “Did something happen?”

“Fuck all to do with you. So, get the fuck out my apartment,” he says facetiously, swatting her away. “Fucking abandon me like everyone else,” he says quietly, almost drifting off as his eyes become heavier.

She laughs at that, picking up her bag and throwing it over her shoulder.

“I’ll be back tomorrow at eight,” she smiles, walking towards the door.

“Ellie? Didn’t I tell you to fuck off,” he shouts after her comically.

“Fuck you, Roman,” Ellie shouts lightly.

“Fuck you, too,” he shouts, finally opening his eyes and looking around as he hears the front door closing.

He gets up with a groan, his body protesting at the movement as he walks to his bar, filling a large tumbler with ice before pouring the Grey Goose into it and stumbling back to the couch with the glass and bottle in tow.

His minds starts whirring again; taking a deep breath as he stares into the god-awful glass fire before him, wondering where the fuck he went wrong.

It was his own fault. He had gone into it too blindly, maybe subconsciously wanting to ignore that she didn’t want him. Perhaps she had tried to tell him what this was and he hadn’t listened. She had never given him any indication it was anything more, had never been the one to initiate anything. He had been the one to show up at her door, invite himself over for a work dinner and what they both knew came with that. The only thing she ever initiated was business; meetings to discuss it, strategizing sessions. He had chased her; that he even knew at the time, but he hadn’t taken a moment to consider that she hadn’t pioneered any of it, had only been his apartment one time when he thought about it. How could he have been so fucking dense and gullible. She would never have wanted to be with him. The thought of that alone makes his whole chest feel as if it’s caving in, his anger crumbling, his sorrow surging. 

It’s just then when he’s halfway into his tumbler, that May makes her appearance. Her cute little tired eyes, her miniature teddy clutched between her teeth as her paws tap loudly against the hardwood floor.

“There’s my girl,” he says lightly, grinning as she excited perks up, attempting to jump up onto the couch, before he picks her up, allows her to lick his face excitedly as he feigns protest, rubbing behind her ears, the teddy discarded onto the couch next to him. 

His little May was a black Labrador; not what he had expected to get when he decided to get a puppy a few months ago.

When he was a kid, he’d always wanted a blond Labrador after he had seen the Andrex commercials in England with the mischievous pup jumping around with the toilet paper.

They had dogs as children, but not family dogs, not fun dogs. They were hunting dogs. Two big ugly horse-like Great Danes who scared the living shit out of him with their aggressive natures; a decision likely at the hands of his father who wanted attack dogs. Two big fucking monsters who would bark and try to bite his fingers off when he tried to pet them. So it was likely not a surprise, when he saw the cute puppy in the Andrex commercial he had pestered everyone for months about getting one; the exact thing he believed he needed in his adolescence. However, his parents had been resolute on not getting one, not seeing the point. Caroline unwilling to have the dog hair all over the furniture, Logan deciding that Roman was too incompetent to have one especially when he had two perfect stallions at home already.

When he got his first apartment he had forgot about the whole thing, too concentrated on getting wasted and ingesting whatever narcotics he could get his hands on into his system. However, when he stopped all that a few years ago, the fantasy had reappeared. He had sourced a litter in Long Island, had already arranged to go and collect it. He would never forget the argument he had with his therapist just two days before he had been scheduled to get it. Tim had suggested that he shouldn’t do it, had said he wasn’t in the correct mindset to have a responsibility like a dog. He had said that Roman was too erratic to be accountable for another life, his recovery too much in its infancy, the healing and coping of his personality disorder too early and unstable to take on such an important obligation. Roman hadn’t taken that well; had been defensive, screaming and shouting, citing that he would get a dog sitter to watch the dog and make sure it was cared for, insulting the guy for being such a fucking asshole for not understanding that he had a lot of love to give a dog. He had stormed out of the office on that day, had drank heavily that evening, brooding the audacity of this fucking loser who knew nothing about him. He hadn’t gone back to see the guy for weeks, too enraged. On reflection now, Tim had been right.

He had gone to Los Angeles not long after that, the idea gone completely out of his head, a new psychedelic therapist on the West Coast engaging in a more holistic fucking mind, body, and spirit approach that Roman had been interested in as a form of entertainment.

He had gone back to Tim when he arrived back in the city two years ago; had been actively working through his demons, trying to get his Borderline more manageable. It had actually been effective, much to his surprise. Tim talking him through the bullshit with Waystar, his feelings towards Gerri (not that he had given up her name), and how not to become so fucking attached since it was apparently typical for his fucked up little mind. However, the day had come when Tim had labelled him as stable; balanced enough to actually have a pet since his life had seemed to be in routine. He thought then that Gerri had had a lot to do with that; providing a security and pathway that he never realised he needed. He had thought he was finally loved, finally heading in a direction of inner peace – how had he been so fucking wrong.

He had gotten the dog the week after Tim’s declaration, had gone to New Rochelle to look at a litter. However, he had fallen in love with May. The smallest of them all and the only black pup in a sea of her blond brothers and sisters. She had stood out so strongly, separated from the rest of them and he had to have her; did have her just a few weeks later when she was old enough.

He had looked up everything about Labradors, committed to being the best doggy parent he could be. He had read about all of their possible ailments and how to prevent them. He had hired Ellie, the most experienced dog nanny he could find to ensure all May’s needs were catered to. He had researched and bought the best dog food for her breed, bought the softest bed, the best toys he could find. The conundrum though, had been when he had seen that the dog couldn’t be left alone for more than two hours for the first few months. It had left him with a tough ultimatum – leave the dog with the nanny all day or take May to work. He had decided, much to Gerri’s dismay, to take the dog to work.

“Roman,” Gerri droned on that first day, her eyes sceptically settled on the dog in his lap, licking the desk as he moved his mouse around on his screen. “Why is there a dog here?”

“Oh,” he gasped, looking to her distractedly. “This is May,” he grinned widely, looking down to the pup, nuzzling the top of her head with his nose.

“Uhu,” Gerri offered, her jaw clenched as she leaned her hand against the glass panel wall. “I’ll reiterate. Why’s there a dog here? In this building?”

“Cause she’s my dog,” Roman had offered as though it were obvious, looking back up to her through his eyelashes, his lips still attached to the fur between May’s ears.

“Okay,” Gerri murmured, her eyes narrowing. “That’s great and all but your dog should be at your home then, not in a place of work.”

“Fuck that. There’s no one to watch her. She’s just a puppy! She’s not allowed to be alone until she’s like six months old!” He protested adamantly, sitting up.

“Then get a dog sitter,” she said dryly.

“What? And have MY dog thinking that some other stranger was her mother. Fuck that!”

“Roman,” she sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose, pushing her glasses up as her eyes closed.

“Gerri! This is precious time in a dog’s life! She needs to understand who her mother is so she can obey my commands. She needs to learn my scent,” he explained.

“This is a place of work, Roman,” she warned. “You shouldn’t have got a dog if you wanted to spend time with her. You’re the COO of a Fortune 500. This isn’t a doggy day care. It’s a serious place of business! You can’t have a dog jumping around your office when we have business to take care of.”

“She’s not even going to get in the way. She’s still sleeping most of the day,” he objected strongly. “Don’t you, cutie? Yes, you do,” he smiled down to May who simply looked up with her tired eyes, licking his face. “And anyway, by the time she’s more awake, I’ll be able to control her.”

“And who’s going to take her for walks?”

“I will.”

“And what’re you going to do when you’re in a meeting? Or have to go out of office?” She challenged, puffing her chest.

“Brian will watch her,” he shrugged.

“Brian?” She scoffed. “Brian is even more senseless than you are, if that’s possible. Not to mention he has a job and work to do.”

“Yeah, as my _assistant_. And as it happens, I need _assistance_ with my dog,” he grinned smugly, fluttering his eyelashes. “On the days we have important meetings or are out of office or whatever, I’ll set her up with the dog sitter.”

“Roman,” she sighed again. “The only dogs allowed in this building are guide dogs.”

“Then stick a pair of sunglasses on me and see who says anything,” he shrugged again.

“I’m being serious.”

“So am I!” He protested loudly, before sighing deeply. “Gerri,” he said gently. “I don’t want her to not know who I am. I’ve waited too long to get her. I don’t want to fuck this up. She’s mine and I want her to know she’s mine. Not some dog sitters.”

She sighed deeply when she notes his innocent eyes, looking at him softly with her lips twisted, her head shaking from side to side.

“If there is one incident where that dog gets in the way of work, she’s out!” Gerri warned, pointing her finger at him as he grinned widely. “I don’t care if she learns the smell of some dog sitter or whatever instead of yours. She’s gone.”

“She has a name,” he scoffed. “Mayonnaise. May or Mayo for short,” he said seriously as he saw the ghost of a smile on her lips before she rolled her eyes and left his office.

“Don’t you want to pet her?” He shouted loudly as he watched her stalk towards her office.

It had turned out that Mayonnaise had been a hit on the Executive floor, too many people coming by with treats and toys for her. Everyone and their assistant offering to take her through a meeting or for a short walk whilst they had run around the corner to collect a sandwich. The arrangement had gone even more smoothly than he had thought it would, much to Gerri’s surprise he thought also.

However, he had even seen her soften to May after only a few weeks.

They had had a meeting in his office one day between just him and Gerri when May had been awake, jumping all over him, excitable and wanting to play. He had tried to calm her down, admonishing her as he attempted to reach for the papers he was trying to refer to when quoting figures to Gerri. However, May had had other ideas, bouncing around onto them, moving them around the desk as Gerri had fumed across the room with frustration and impatience.

“May!” He had raised his voice for the first time ever, the little pup ignoring him completely as she just moved her paws across the papers, barking lightly, jutting her head in his viewpoint. “Stay the fuck still or I’ll put you in your bed.”

“Jesus Christ!” Gerri had shouted, slamming her folder down onto the couch beside her. The dog had stopped in its tracks to look up to her, Roman following her line of vision with the same wary expression as Gerri had got up and stormed across to the desk. “Give me her,” she said holding her hands out to Roman.

“What?” Roman had almost whispered, holding the dog firmly.

“Give me the dog so she can sit still, and you can look at your report so we can finish this meeting before next week,” she had directed firmly, gesturing her hands towards the dog as he had lifted May up and handed her over to Gerri’s waiting hands.

Gerri had taken the dog expertly, walking back over to the couch as Roman had gawped, shocked at how the dog had stood silently on her thighs looking up into Gerri’s stern blue eyes.

“Right,” Gerri had begun, lowering her tone, looking directly into May’s eyes, pointing a finger at her nose. “Listen here, you. You’re going to sit quietly so I can get through this meeting because I have too much to do today. Got it?” She ordered firmly as Gerri narrowed her eyes at the dog, before picking her up and sitting her on the couch. May had climbed instantly onto her, her front paws settled on Gerri’s lap, before she had lay down, resting her head calmly there as Gerri had picked up her report and looked at Roman expectantly.

“Go on,” she directed.

“How the fuck did you do that?” He asked in awe.

“You need to have a firm hand with them. It can’t all be fun and games or they won’t behave. Sounds like anyone else you know? Without naming names,” she offered, raising a challenging eyebrow, her smug smile filled with mirth, as May sighed against Gerri’s lap.

May had become Gerri’s new best friend; exuberantly pressing her nose against the glass when Gerri had walked past his office, whilst Gerri had offered a small smirk towards the animal. May would excitedly jump towards her when Gerri had entered his office, Gerri more or less ignoring it, simply complaining how she was going to trip over the canine and break her neck one of these days. But she didn’t stop May from taking her now usual position on Gerri’s lap through meetings as Gerri had absently stroked behind her ear while she listened to him talk, reading through the emails on her phone.

He’d even once gone to the bathroom and come back to see Gerri smiling affectionately at the excited puppy as he held back quietly when he heard Gerri utter the words “you’re a beautiful girl, aren’t you?”

It had surprised him when it had sparked a mixture of emotions through him. The first being absolute heart wrenching adoration that his two favourite ladies seemed to like each other. However, the other hand had absolutely, immaturely been his jealousy towards little Mayo – an absolute grudge that his little puppy was getting the caring attention he so desired, that she was getting the scratch behind the ear that he desperately sought from Gerri.

He looks down to May now, still considering that jealousy; her tired eyes looking towards the glass fire as she settles down on his lap as he sips his vodka. He picks up her teddy to tuck it into her, noting the blue and white silk Hermès scarf, recalling how May had been gifted such an expensive accessory.

She had been in Gerri’s lap only a few months ago and had been caught chewing on the edge of the scarf around Gerri’s neck, the corner of it soaked through; the scarf thoroughly ruined. Roman had jumped up as soon as he realised; May looking to him with surprise, the scarf still in between her teeth as he shouted at her to let it go. He had apologised profusely to an uninterested looking Gerri; had offered to buy her a new one to replace the damage his dog had done. Much to his absolute astonishment though, Gerri had taken it off instead and wrapped it around May’s teddy’s neck and tied a pristine bow.

“I didn’t like this one anyway,” she had shrugged off. “Definitely don’t like it now it’s covered in drool,” she had quipped, scratching behind May’s ear as the pup had burrowed her head into the scarf around the teddy’s neck, pushing her head up into Gerri’s hand.

It was the small soft smile on Gerri’s lips that had given him that insight; had made him realise he was absolutely in love with her. She had given him that enlightenment that she likely hadn’t even realised would be the emotion that would haunt him for months to come. The thought of that tenderness and gentleness behind the tough exterior she had on a constant display would be the subject of his ponderings, fantasies, and dreams almost every day. He would wonder why she did it, imagined how it would look when aimed towards him; had plotted how he could get her to break down those barriers for him.

He had spoken to his therapist about it; had been warned not to start acting rashly, professing his love and affection as he usually did in the early days when his hyper-obsessiveness on a woman would begin and later dwindle; when he knew that his Borderline would consume and control him. But he felt it, had felt that surging in his chest whenever he looked at Gerri.

It had heightened even more when Gerri had eventually started showing those soft, affectionate signs towards him that caused so much envy against May. When Gerri had eventually started to drop her guard when they were alone in her apartment, offering him breadcrumbs of tenderness and touches that he so craved. He thought the dog had perhaps softened her, another reason to love and adore May.

It had taken such a long time to realise he felt the same way for Gerri that he did for May. The same devotion present when he contemplated them both. When he watched them at their most vulnerable when they were sleeping; when Gerri would laugh and May would play; when May would try to understand how to learn a new trick and Gerri would bite her lip trying to figure out the way around the most current disaster. It was love that absorbed him in those moments; straight forward, genuine, absolute, unadulterated love.

And that was what made this whole situation gut wrenching.

How could he have been so fucking ludicrous to think that Gerri might actually feel something for him?

He should have known she would never stay; they never do. People would always be disappointed in him and he in them. He had just been naïve enough to think she was different. He had never felt for her what he had felt with the others. That suffocation, like he had was backed into a corner was usually present whenever he got a girlfriend. They would put themselves in his space, in his atmosphere to the point that he felt like he couldn’t breathe from being surrounded by them and their shit. However, he wanted to be engrossed in her, had wanted to drown in everything that was her; had even focussed a lot of his therapy on how to rationalise his behaviour so he didn’t do that and drive her away.

He knew he could be obsessive; was absolutely aware when he was taking things too far. So, he had held back his neurosis, had worked at giving her the space she seemed to need, not being too clingy, not asking for any commitments so she could come around when she was ready. But he’d misread the whole thing, it had all been for nothing.

It wasn’t enough; he wasn’t enough.

Sometimes he felt like he was a child in an adult world; still having not learned how life worked. He didn’t understand people. Sometimes, he felt like he lacked that actual capability to actually have a deep connection with anyone. Like no matter what he did, he was never going to get it right. He didn’t know how to communicate what he wanted to correctly; didn’t know how to guide himself through relationships as they took the natural course they were supposed to. He was either too aloof or too tenacious; too engrossed or too apathetic; too emotional or not emotional enough. He could never find a balance with people; he could never just be himself without having to think of every move, without someone being vexed. But he thought she got him.

He had genuinely thought that Gerri was the only person in the world who silently understood how the fucked-up little mind of Roman Roy work. She had always got the best out of him; had extracted the innovative ideas from him, had steered his charm away from bullshit and towards shareholders, had made his psychotic mind become more rational when it came to her.

But she didn’t feel anything for him. And why should she? Who would? Nobody could stay with this unstable abnormal freak. Who would want to put up with that? None of the others wanted to. Tabitha had tried, though his fault had been that he couldn’t give her what she most needed; ending it with her had seemed obvious when he had seemed to find what he needed, allowing her to find another.

But, he was a fucking moron; the village idiot; Mr Bean starring in his own movie. An absolute pathetic excuse for a human to have thought that the powerhouse that was Gerri Kellman had ever felt anything other than a business alliance with him.

He takes a huge swig of his drink, the feeling of anxiety beginning to overpower him as he realised that he would never find another Gerri. It had taken him this long to find someone who he thought had actually understood a percentile of him. The thought that he was going to have to go through this for the rest of his life; a life without someone special, was a devastating blow.

He stands up abruptly, jolting May off his lap, his balance shaky as his inebriation controls his limbs, his hand clutching his bottle as he begins hyperventilating whilst he paces throughout the room; completely unaware as May’s confused eyes shift back and forth to watch him.

He couldn’t do this for the rest of his life. He couldn’t go on being the rejected patsy, the runt of the litter, the insignificant worthless piece of shit that no one wanted. Just the thought that he had another whole half of his life to go through like that was stifling.

His long strides were increasing, May jumping up to move alongside him, thinking it was a game as she tried to jump up, as he ignored her, batting her away as his mind concentrated on his catastrophic destiny. It had all become too much, his hyperventilating reaching peak as he struggled for relief, his grip on the glass bottle of Grey Goose loosening as he launched it across the room, smashing it against a wall, watching as it fragmented into smithereens. It’s the petrified wail from May that brings him back to reality, the skirting of her paws against the tiles under her as she runs away to hide, her teddy left behind on the couch.

He hates himself even more; his elbows coming up to head, his arms wrapping around the back of his skull as he hollers loudly in frustration at the whole situation. He wants to run and soothe May, but he finds he can’t; can’t control the convulsions that are running through his body to make himself get a grip and put himself second.

He needs to feel pain; hasn’t felt like he had to do anything like that in years. So, he uses an old tactic, stomps to his bathroom and turns the shower freezing cold; doesn’t even bother to undress as he steps under the ice-cold water with a strangled wail as it gradually reaches sub-zero temperatures. However, it’s not enough, the bite against his skin isn’t as intense with his clothes on. He unceremoniously rips his shirt open, the buttons clanking against the glass shower walls, his belt smashing onto the floor alongside his pants as he begins to feel the sweet relief of the cascading water against his flesh, burning pleasurably against every surface. He feels like every pulsing nerve in his body was being soothed as his skin fires up; every part of the welcome pain completely deserved for being such an insignificant worm.

It had always worked this way in the past. Five minutes under a shower or until you couldn’t stand it any longer was a tactic he had learned young; a pleasant torment without hurting yourself too badly and a welcome jolt out of the panic your body was subjecting you to.

He eventually finds a seat at the floor of the shower when he turns the water off after he can’t take it anymore; his hands pushing back his soaked hair, his intoxicated mind buzzing, his body pulsating from its thrashing. He feels completely numb; completely empty. Except that small part of him that thinks of the little dog he had terrorised; and the guilt washes over him all over again.

He eventually goes to find her teddy once he’s dried with his boxers back on, makes his way to his bed that he knows she would be hiding under.

“May,” he whispers softly as he kneels on the floor, hearing her whimpers as he approaches. “I’m sorry,” he breathes as he tries to make her out in the shadows under the bed, her eyes glinting as she blinks at him sceptically. “I’m sorry,” he whispers again, his voice cracking as everything builds up again. “I’m so sorry,” he whimpers as he planks his body solidly onto the carpet, his heavy body fusing through the apartment under him, his chin scratching against the carpet whilst his tears start to fall. His eyes close as he buries them in the crux of his elbow, his fist still clutching her teddy as he lets out every ounce of devastation he had been trying to fight against. After a few minutes he doesn’t hear her come towards him, only feels her shuffle closer, feels her touch her wet nose to his arm as she tries to burrow under it.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers again, wrapping his palm around the back of her head and scratching behind her ear, the scent from Gerri’s scarf overwhelming his nostrils, eliciting further sobs from him.

****

He wakes up feeling like he’s been hit by a truck. The first important move of the day to plough himself with pain relief as he considers how he’s supposed to cope with the workday when she’s going to be right there in the office next to him. He doesn’t know how he’s going to act. Too many fucking emotions still mixing in his brain. He can’t take the intrusiveness of it all, notes May’s cute face looking up to him in his bathroom as he downs a coffee after his shower; wishing it was a day he could take her with him – in dire need of a sidekick on this mission.

“We can do this, right May?” He asks her as she looks up to him with her head quirked curiously to the side. “Just another fucking day, right?”

He says, moving towards the mirror to survey himself. An absolute riot, he concludes.

“How about some music? Hmm?” He asks May as she continues to watch him, lying down on her stomach now as she settles her chin on her paw. “You seem like an AC/DC fan to me.”

He quickly links up his phone to the speaker, ignoring his pounding headache that attempts to protest, blasting the most aggressive AC/DC song he can find; a hopeful attempt to psyche himself up. May doesn’t seem to approve, is restless around the music, not that he notices her discomfort as she decides to walk out of the bathroom and leave him there.

“You have no taste!” He shouts behind her as he takes a deep breath, regarding his reflection before sighing.

****

It was just as awkward as he thought it would be.

He had walked in without May today, everyone stopping to ask why she wasn’t there; him citing a business meeting uptown this afternoon – a welcome fucking meeting considering he only had to deal with Gerri in the morning. He had told Brian that he absolutely did not want to be disturbed today apart from any scheduled meeting and that he would like to cancel his twelve o’clock with Gerri; an unwelcome piece of fucking news to Brian who knew it wouldn’t go down well.

Roman had decided he would stay out of her way; that was the best way to deal with this. Though, as he watched her casually meander around her office, carefreely getting on with her day as she stood at her assistant’s desk shooting the breeze; he could feel his fury rising. The reminder that this really meant nothing to her whilst he miserably sat feeling as though he had just been crushed by a 500-ton truck was too much of a slap in the face to ignore.

He had received a text from her on his personal phone a half hour after he arrived, had watched her unperturbed form calmly sitting behind her desk, writing in her diary when it had first arrived.

**_Gerri:_ **

**Why did you cancel the 12pm? We need to talk.**

He grinned widely, refusing to look at her, before he rolled his shoulders back, puffing his chest out in preparation for a witty response. The resentment within him couldn’t stop him from being so callous in his response, offering only a smirk when he looked over to her, noting her frown as she watched him through the glass.

**_Roman:_ **

**Something came up.**

He watches her as she rolls her eyes at that response, watches as she aggressively types before his phone pings again.

**_Gerri:_ **

**Roman, this is work. Not a fucking playground.**

He smiles again at the anger in her tone, glad that he’s at least riled her up so he’s not the only one, whilst he realises he wants to play on that; wants to poke the bear even more and using her own words back on her would hopefully achieve just that.

**_Roman:_ **

**It’s a bad idea. Wouldn’t want someone to suspect something.**

He watches again as she shakes her head with a huff, fuming at his text message through the glass panels of their offices.

**_Gerri:_ **

**12pm in my office. Be there.**

He smiles at how it’s worked, how he’s been able to fuck with her just as she’s been fucking with him for so long now. It was about time someone put the unflappable Gerri Kellman in her fucking place.

**_Roman:_ **

**Sorry, I’m busy getting my balls waxed. Maybe another time.**

****

When 12pm comes around, he flexes in preparation of fucking with her; like a fucking gymnast about to go for the Olympic Gold on the fucking springboard.

His meeting uptown wasn’t until two, his meeting with her supposed to last until 1pm – a whole fucking hour to mess with her. A whole morning of ideas of how he was going to achieve that already sitting in the rolodex in his head as he stretches his hamstring out in the middle of his office.

He first of all decides to sit down and put his feet up on the table facing her, watches her through the glass before he closes his eyes and reaches his hands behind his head. He sits there for a few minutes feigning a nap, too fidgety and irritable to be able to sit still any longer. When he opens his eyes he notices how she’s no longer paying him any attention, however, he knows it’s a matter of time before her glance wavers to him – if Ms. Kellman hated anything, it was tardiness and ineptitude at work.

So, he stands up, swinging his arms around as he looks out the window to the lower Manhattan buildings. He decides on idea number five, climbing up onto his couch and pretending to walk a tightrope, trying to keep his balance as his heel touches his toe with each movement, his arms outstretched as he tries wavers in keeling over a few times. He keeps that up for another ten minutes before he gets bored and bounces down onto the couch, lying back on it with his head hanging over the side – idea number eight. He was gawping out of the glass window to a desk on the other side, follows up the pant leg of some dude to his perplexed expression before he sees his door flurry open, her upside-down form storming through his office door, closing it firmly behind her.

“Hiya,” he says excitedly.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” She says casually, throwing him off guard.

“I’m hanging upside down. Care to join me?” He croaks out, his Adams Apple falling almost up to his nose at this rate.

“Do you understand how much you’re embarrassing yourself right now?” She asks, folding her arms over.

“No, I do not,” he responds childishly. “Would you care to enlighten me?”

“Bouncing around your office as if you were an infant is not only immature and half-witted but is in fact setting a bad fucking example as the COO responsible for all the people on the other side of that glass wall who can see you right now.”

He looks up to the people through the glass panel, noticing how a few of them instantly look away, Karolina shaking her head with a smirk as the only one who doesn’t. He simply raises his hand and offers a wave before Gerri loses her temper.

“Roman,” she bites. “You can’t let what happens in your personal life affect what happens in here. This is the workplace of a Fortune 500 company, not a fucking jungle gym so sit the fuck up and pull yourself together.”

“Oh yeah?” He groans back, turning the right way up, his pale face staring back at her challengingly. “I didn’t realise there was a fucking rule book for what you do when you’re fucking your boss but she turns out to be a frigid fucking robot. Please direct me to the HR policy on that or the appropriate HR whiz kid I should speak to because I would love some clarification, mein mentor.”

Her face turns stony and for a moment he thinks calling her frigid and suggesting he would tell HR about their relationship might have just been a step too far; watches her take a deep breath, slowly exhaling it, anxious for what she’s about to hit him with – wondering too if it’ll turn him on.

“Look, I understand you’re upset about what happened last night,” she offers quietly, her eyes focusing intently into his. “I get that. But I meant what I said about us remaining solid in here. I meant what I said about being here for you. But the rest of it needs to be forgotten and left at the door. There’s too much at stake here.”

He thinks he sees a glint of pain in her eyes, a hint of regret and it softens him momentarily, until he remembers she’s an expert at this – a master manipulator in getting her puppets to do everything that’s beneficial to her.

“Forgotten?” He scoffs. “I’m just getting fucking started,” he threatens before standing up and aggressively charging across his office to grab his coat.

He needs to get out of here – the point was supposed to be that he was avoiding her and this, her being fucking soft and scheming was just too raw.

“Roman, don’t be like this,” she huffs, her eyes following him. “It’s not that simple. Don’t ruin everything we’ve worked for.”

“I’m not the one who’s ruined it with their conniving, exploitative Machiavellian bullshit. You fucking used me to get what you wanted, and I’ll never fucking forgive you for that,” he erupts, stopping short of her with his coat over his arm. “So, enjoy CEO. I hope it was worth it, but you can do it without me.”

“That’s not fucking true—,” she tries to protest as he storms to the door, her voice cutting off as he opens it – no desire for the team of staffers watching them both to hear more than they already may have as she stands embarrassed in the middle of his office.

She takes a deep breath, locks eyes with Karolina momentarily; the reflection of pity looking back at her. She wouldn’t have that. She holds her head up high, walking towards his door and swinging it open as her chest collapses within her.

“Don’t you all have work to do?” She challenges heatedly before striding confidently into her office.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. I've never had a dog. Only reason I stuck Mayo in is because lontanissima begged me and she deserves it, so please excuse any faults with the dog. I am an amateur and relying on google. 
> 
> 2\. I've been chatting with a few people and I'm genuinely interested in recommendations of books about middle aged women and shit like that so if anyone has any recommendations then give me a message on tumblr - lucylovesmemore, or twitter - nomoretears1124
> 
> 3\. Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD): 
> 
> First and foremost, I just want to say that the only reason I’m leaving this information here is because I think it’s very interesting in the context of looking at Roman as a character, with the mention previously in the show that Roman may actually suffer from this is very apt to me. 
> 
> I want to emphasis strongly that I am not a Doctor, and this is not here for a diagnosis tool nor to validate how Roman handles it - that is my own experience only. I have a Psychology degree and suffer from the disorder myself, but I have zero expertise. This is just me sharing some interesting information because I feel like it’s an intriguing topic to consider Roman psychologically in this light and to perhaps explain and inform why I often write him as an erratic mess. 
> 
> Personality Disorders such as BPD are also very co-occurring with other disorders such as depression, bipolar, anxiety, substance abuse etc.  
> So, if you read any of this and think oh fuck that’s me, you may just have mild or severe symptoms of another disorder. If you look at this and think, “oh fuck, I’m not fucking kidding, that’s me. I tick every fucking box” like I did when I first saw this list – first of all, please go and see your doctor for a formal diagnosis, and second of all, please know that not every person's experience with BPD is the same, so because one person suffers from these parts, may not mean that you do. Please give me a message on Tumblr or Twitter, or give a comment and I will give you my email if you want to talk about this or just come say hi. 
> 
> To be diagnosed with BPD, according to the DSM V you need to meet at least five of these symptoms:
> 
> \- Fear of Abandonment – Something as simple as your loved one going out with a friend, arriving home late from work, or vacationing with people could trigger intense fear. It often leads the person with BPD to trigger an intense response by doing behaviours such as manipulating the person not to go out by starting arguments, creating accusations.  
> \- Unstable relationships - People with BPD tend to have relationships that are intense and short-lived. You may fall in love quickly, believing that each new person is the one who will make you feel whole, only to be quickly disappointed. Your relationships either seem perfect or horrible, without any middle ground.  
> \- Unclear or shifting self-image - your sense of self is typically unstable. Sometimes you may feel good about yourself, but other times you hate yourself, or even view yourself as evil. You probably don’t have a clear idea of who you are or what you want in life. As a result, you may frequently change jobs, friends, lovers, religion, values, goals, or even sexual identity.  
> \- Impulsive, self-destructive behaviours - you may engage in harmful, sensation-seeking behaviors, especially when you’re upset. You may impulsively spend money you can’t afford, binge eat, drive recklessly, shoplift, engage in risky sex, or overdo it with drugs or alcohol.  
> \- Self-harm - Suicidal behavior and deliberate self-harm is common in people with BPD. Suicidal behavior includes thinking about suicide, making suicidal gestures or threats, or actually carrying out a suicide attempt. Self-harm encompasses all other attempts to hurt yourself without suicidal intent.  
> \- Extreme Emotional swings - Unstable emotions and moods are common with BPD. One moment, you may feel happy, and the next, despondent. Little things that other people brush off can send you into a tailspin. These can be intense, but they tend to pass fairly quickly, usually lasting just a few minutes or hours  
> \- Chronic Feelings of emptiness - People with BPD often talk about feeling empty, as if there’s a hole or a void inside them. At the extreme, you may feel as if you’re “nothing” or “nobody.” You may try to fill the void with things like drugs, food, or sex. But nothing feels truly satisfying.  
> \- Explosive anger - If you have BPD, you may struggle with intense anger and a short temper.  
> \- Feeling suspicious or out of touch with reality - People with BPD often struggle with paranoia or suspicious thoughts about others’ motives.
> 
> (Main source: https://www.helpguide.org/articles/mental-disorders/borderline-personality-disorder.htm)
> 
> Again, please drop me a message if you want to talk about it or anything else :)


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